Better Than This
by babelbabel
Summary: After the war, Duo's relationship with Heero didn't get any easier. 2 1, 5 2, angst.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Obviously.

A/N: I don't even know where this story came from. Sorry for the angst.

* * *

He knew better. That's what he plans to tell Quatre after everything is over. He knew better than to fall for Heero.

He knocks on the door of Heero's apartment and waits outside, his heart fluttering as he tries to keep a relaxed, cheerful expression on his face. It's just coffee, and not even a date. Just two friends spending time together on their day off.

Heero opens the door, wearing khakis and a fitted t-shirt that makes him look taller than 5'7". His messenger bag is slung across his chest and he says good morning with a brief smile before stepping out and locking his door. Duo has to step back a bit, to give him enough room to get out. Then he follows him to the car, thanking him for driving.

"No problem," Heero says, not glancing back.

They make small talk on the drive to the shop. How are you, how was it seeing Trowa the other day, how's that painting you're working on coming. Inside, Duo's asking different questions, and eventually the silence stretches as he fights with himself to not say them out loud. The drive feels longer than it is.

Just before they pull into the small parking lot, Heero asks, "So how are you feeling about that art show next week? Are you ready?"

Duo's breath catches in his throat, because he's been waiting for someone to ask this, wanting it so badly. He wants to scream that, no, he's not ready, he's more uncertain than he's ever been because the paintings he produced this time are nothing like what made him famous. There's no fun, no joy in them. They're raw and personal and a child's memories of what life on the streets of L-2 was like. They're all unfinished because working on them makes Duo feel like he's bleeding out onto the floor of his studio.

But Heero's already starting to park and Duo knows how little time he has to answer, so he just says, "Oh, you know. Hopefully I'll get everything done." And then they get out of the car and get in line for coffee and there are other people around and Heero's trying to scope out the best table for them, so there's no way to follow up. Duo doesn't even know what he would say, because all he wants to do is curl up in Heero's arms and cry.

Instead he sits across from him with his mug of coffee and sketches while Heero types on his computer. Probably responding to emails, or planning a schedule for his new programming project, or something like that. Something that takes no emotion, just the detailed logistics that Heero excels at.

Duo does enjoy sketching at the coffee shop with Heero across from him. That he feels safe enough to draw with him there should have been a warning sign from the start. Well, it was. But he couldn't pass it up. It's the only place he has where he can feel the safety of being alone without actually being alone. It became too difficult to give up, and now he's in this predicament.

He knows better.

* * *

"What does that even mean, anyway?" he asks himself aloud as he smears more purple on his canvas with a pallet knife. "Knowing better…"

He shrugs to himself. Nothing at all. Knowing doesn't change his emotions one bit. God, he's so terrified of the day when Heero finally starts dating someone, when Duo has to shake her hand and smile like he's so happy for his friend. And he will be, because Heero deserves to have someone to love. And maybe that thought will be enough to save their friendship.

Duo steps back from the painting and sighs with frustration. He's been working on this for three months, but it doesn't show. He's trying to vent all these emotions into something tangible that he can dissect and then discard, but it's not working. It's just a formless pile of shit, as far as Duo can tell. There are so many layers of paint on there because he spends the day with Heero and covers it with shades of rouge and coral and sunshine, shades of hope. Then he wakes up in the morning and buries them with cobalt and grey, trying to make himself stay in reality.

The show is tomorrow. He had been trying to get this one would be ready for it, so he could sell it to someone and forget about it. He's tired of lingering over it, tired of having it take up room in his studio.

But it's true what they say. People's hopes go on forever.

* * *

Heero comes to opening night and gives Duo a hug, congratulating him on a job well done. Duo gives his friend a tour of all the paintings. When they get to the one that's really about him (which Duo decided to show after all, even though the oils still haven't dried), Heero asks what it's about. Duo prevaricates, strings some vague words together as his heart tries to choke him by crawling up his throat. Heero doesn't push him for answers.

It's nights like this that break Duo's heart, because by now, he's sick of watching the way he grabs at even that little bit of hope. Maybe Heero does care, he tells himself, while knowing full well that he doesn't. Maybe later tonight Heero will initiate, and say he's just been waiting for the right time to say how he feels. Duo knows that it's all bullshit, another trick of his mind to keep his heart hanging on. He's so tired, but he's no longer in control of any of this.

After the show, Heero takes him out for a late dinner. Quatre's on a business trip, Trowa's with the circus, and Wufei has a two hour drive home, so it's just the two of them. Not because Heero wants one-on-one time, Duo tells himself firmly. But he still enjoys it.

During moments like this, it's hard for Duo not to picture what they would be like as a couple. They would have dinner together like this often, where they would have time to really hear about each other's lives. It's not just that Duo wants Heero to ask him more questions; he wants to know what Heero is really thinking. What he's worried about, what he's excited for, what makes him angry. Sometimes it's hard not to write out the conversations he so desperately wants in his head.

"Your show seemed different tonight. Are you okay?"

Duo's so surprised to hear these words come out of Heero's mouth that he does a double-take, wondering if he isn't just imagining things.

"What do you mean, different?" Like he doesn't already know.

"Just… darker. More abstract. Like you're fighting something." Heero gives him a careful look, studying the neutral expression that Duo has plastered onto his face. "Are you okay?" he repeats.

Duo takes in a shaky breath. He lifts his hands as he gets ready to speak – he's always been one for hand gestures – but he notices that they're shaking, too, and he presses his palms flat against the table in front of him.

"I guess I've just been feeling down, recently. Been thinking about the past a lot."

Heero gives him a slight nod of understanding. That would have never happened during the war, Duo thinks.

"Is it about the war? Or L-2?"

"L-2," Duo confirms. "I just didn't want all my work to be about the good stuff, you know? I wanted to preserve the hard times, too. Even if it's just me that knows what it all means."

"That makes sense," Heero says, as encouraging as Duo has ever heard him. It's sincere. Duo believes that much.

Duo glances down at his plate, chews on his bottom lip a little. He can feel Heero looking at him, waiting to see if he has anything else to say. He does and he doesn't, because he doesn't know how to start without breaking down, and he's not sure if he wants to break down in front of Heero. What he's most scared of is that Heero will listen and then direct him to someone else. Tell him to go talk to Quatre, instead of just listening and knowing that Duo is in pain. Just helping him carry it.

That's really all he wants from Heero. He doesn't need a lover. He just wants him to be a friend who will listen, who knows him.

Duo knows that's a fucking lie before his mind even finishes the thought.

So finally he shrugs, and asks Heero about work instead. They delve into that safe topic and nothing else happens that evening.

* * *

Duo goes to the show again the next night, even though he was only scheduled to come the first evening. He figures it doesn't hurt to make an appearance. Besides, he's nervous about whether the pieces are selling. He still has three full weeks left for these pieces to be displayed, but he just wants to see whether even one has been tagged as taken.

A few of the browsing people recognize him and he chats with them for a bit, signs his artist card and passes it out, before slowly walking through his dark paintings once again. Heero's right; they're so much more abstract. Duo is best-known for a painting of two children playing in a giant sandcastle, one standing like a king at the top and the other lovingly etching bricks into one of the towers. These new pieces wouldn't even be recognizable as his if they hadn't been signed.

There is one that has been bought, much to Duo's surprise. His stomach drops a bit when he sees the bright orange tag marking it, because it's the one that he's not even really finished with, the one that is just layers of paint that represent the mess of feelings he shouldn't have.

It takes him a few minutes, but he manages to track down the gallery owner so he can see who made the purchase. The name on the form makes his head spin: Heero Yuy. Because if even a simple question makes his heart ache with hope, you can bet that this comes close to obliterating him.

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that it means nothing more than the support of a friend. And that he's okay with that.

But he steps outside and calls Heero to ask if he can come over. The air is bitingly cold, although it was sunny earlier. They're on the cusp of fall. The trees will burst into red any day now as the clouds sweep in grey skies and drizzle. It's Duo's favorite weather, and he stands outside for a full twenty minutes before turning away from the gallery and walking towards his car.

For the few minutes that it takes him to drive to Heero's apartment, Duo blasts the music in his car, the harmonies so loud they jar his head. He feels encapsulated in the sound, wrapped safely in the raw grit that comes out in the singer's voice at this volume. Now that he thinks about it, probably none of his friends know that he listens to his music this loud when he's alone. That's another secret he's managed to keep.

As he parks, he turns the volume back down for when he gets back in the car. Just in case. Then it's only two flights of stairs between him and Heero.

He walks in without knocking, knowing that Heero will be on his laptop at the dining room table, waiting for him. "Hey," he says, toeing off his shoes and setting down his messenger bag.

"Hey," Heero says. He types for a few more seconds and then looks up to smile at Duo. "How was your day?"

Duo shrugs and sits across from him. "Pretty good. I hear you bought one of my paintings."

"Yeah," Heero says. He glances up again and then snaps his laptop closed. "Is that okay? Is there another buyer who wants it?"

"No, it's fine," Duo says. "I'm surprised that anyone would want that one. It's not even finished."

Heero stands up to make them some tea without asking whether Duo wants any. He knows him well enough to intuit that he needs comfort. Duo's grateful that he doesn't need to say it out loud.

He stays quiet until the water's done boiling and Heero comes back with the teapot and two empty mugs, so they can talk while it steeps. Then Duo tries to focus and ready himself for the questions Heero might have.

"Can I ask… why do you think no one would want it?"

He always asks permission for prying into Duo's life, even though Duo's never refused him. "It just looks like a lot of nothing to me. I've painted over it at least a dozen times, but I'm the only one who knows everything that's under there." He hesitates, tapping his fingernails against the porcelain mug in his hands, liking the way it rings in the silence. "I'm worried – " he has to fight for these words, fight to keep the tremor out of his voice, "—I'm worried that no one will care about all the mess that I show in those paintings. That they only want the bright parts."

He screws up his courage and looks up at Heero. His head is tilted, his eyes gentle with understanding, and a small half-smile plays at his lips. Duo would almost call it a look of awe.

Heero stays silent, waiting, as he always does, to make sure that Duo has nothing more to say. Then he reaches forward and pours some of the tea into Duo's mug. "I think you're brave to risk putting that out there."

Duo's hands warm as the tea reaches the top of his cup. He stares at the dark amber liquid and tries not to squeeze the mug too hard and tries not to blush and more than anything tries not to look Heero in the eye, because he knows what is clearly written in his own. Because for all that Heero does care about him, it's still only as his friend. Duo knows it to his core. He knows it because he watches Heero so much more closely than anyone else.

"Thanks," Duo whispers, and he raises the tea to his lips, not caring that it scalds his throat on the way down. Across from him, Heero sips carefully at his own cup, watching Duo, and then opens up his laptop again, returning to his work.

Duo feels his shoulders relax, and he drinks his tea more slowly, letting it soothe him. He lets himself enjoy the safety he feels in this moment and puts aside that fact that he still wants more.

* * *

It's becoming a simple fact of his life. He's in love with Heero and he doesn't know how to get over it, because just when he's had enough, he finds another reason to hope for a little longer. As exhausted as Duo is from the cycle, it's starting to become familiar, just another part of who he is. Something he can live with instead of fighting to change.

He knows it isn't healthy. He knows he deserves someone who reciprocates. And he knows that, at the very least, he should tell Heero how he feels and let the rejection be the deciding factor, to cut out all the hope that's left in his heart.

He knows better than this.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

He has moved on.

Heero has moved on from the war and from the scars that once controlled him, trapping him within the narrow outline of a perfect soldier. Duo sees it in his actions, in the way he can drop his guard around people and actually live his life for himself, not for this great big ideal. Duo always knew that Heero was strong, strong enough to change despite all his demons.

It kills Duo that he's still in the same place. He still fights the same storm inside, trying to balance the dichotomy of fear and love that defines him. Just when he thinks that he, too, has moved on, he discovers once again how quick he is to run away from the people around him and it's like not a day has passed since L-2. He's still that scared little kid that lost everything three times over.

Most days, he feels stuck. He looks inward at his mess of emotions and wounds and has no idea where to start.

Then there are the days when he sees Heero, and he doesn't think about any of that. It's like those moments when the sunlight finally burns through the morning fog; he remembers who he is. He remembers that those old things have no power over him. He remembers what hope feels like, and he is so sure that, this time, he will have the strength to change.

Those days never last long enough.

* * *

Wufei calls him up three weeks after the show. "Hey," he says. "Do you have time for dinner this Friday?"

Duo says yeah, of course, and they set a place and time. But it's a little strange. Usually, he only sees Wufei when the rest of the pilots are around. He lives in San Diego and Duo in LA, just far enough apart to make it difficult to spend time together.

Wufei writes a lot these days. Duo was surprised when he first found out. Inside, he'd always known that he wanted to pursue art if he survived the war, but he hadn't known that Wufei was also a creative type, bent on drowning in literature for the rest of his days and only coming up for air when his friends made him.

Duo is grateful for the offer of company, even if he is thrown that he wasn't one to initiate. He spends the week before it sketching some new ideas, more like what he painted originally. It's not that he's giving up on the dark stuff. In fact, it sold surprisingly well. Of the twenty original paintings he showed, only three haven't been bought, but with the way their prints have been selling he feels confident that he'll have an offer for them soon.

No, he's not giving up on the dark stuff, but he wants to figure out a way to fuse the two parts of him, the part that can dream of forests of flowers with the part that vomits monochromatic messes of paint on the canvas. He sees it as a strategy to get on with his life. If he can mesh the two in his work, maybe he can mesh them in his life as well. Finally become more than a conflict.

He's getting ready on Friday, double-checking his pockets to make sure he's got everything, when his phone rings. He answers it, thinking Wufei got to the restaurant early. His heartbeat triples in speed when he hears Heero's voice, asking him if he has any plans for dinner.

"Yeah, actually," he answers, cursing his luck. He offers to ask Wufei if he would mind a third person, but Heero insists that it's no big deal. Duo says that maybe they'll stop by his place for dessert and when he hangs up he feels pathetic. It's only been a week since he last saw Heero. He doesn't want to be so desperate.

So when he finally sees Wufei, he's not as upbeat as he knows he should be. He tries to focus on the small talk. Wufei's explaining his new story, and normally Duo loves the topics he writes about. They're surprisingly slipstream, techy adventures about mobile suit pilots that somehow always cross into fantastical worlds. Wufei combines a lot of his turmoil with a sense of play that Duo didn't even know was in him. But the stories are always so real, so raw.

They're twenty minutes into the meal before Wufei sighs and leans forward on his elbows, raising his eyebrows at Duo. "Okay, Maxwell," he says in that sharp tone of his. The kind that says-without-saying that Duo better look him in the eye and answer what comes next with the purest honesty he has inside of him. "Something is clearly bothering you tonight. What's going on?"

He ends up telling Wufei everything. The hope, the lust, the desperation. He hasn't even told Quatre any of this shit. When he finishes, he feels bare like he never has before, shivering and not from the air conditioning. He's surprised that he hasn't cried a single tear.

Wufei is still leaning forward, his fingers laced together, supporting his chin. He looks more concerned than anything, though not as intensely as maybe Quatre would.

"Maybe what you need is a change of pace," Wufei says. "Something else to focus on."

Duo snorts and shrugs his shoulders. "You have any ideas?"

"Actually, I do." It turns out that, talking about his story earlier that night, Wufei was trying to lead up to this new idea he had. He wants the story to be a graphic novel, and he wants Duo to be his artist.

"I first thought of it when I saw your show last month. I know you have the skill, but I wanted it to have that edge as well. And I know you'll understand the stories like I do. As a pilot."

That's how Duo ends up drawing for Wufei.

* * *

They spend so long working on the logistics and initial planning steps of this massive project that Duo completely forgets to ask Wufei if he wants to see Heero. They eat dessert at the restaurant and finally leave at midnight, when the staff start putting chairs onto the tables next to them. It's only after Duo waves goodbye and gets into his car that he thinks to check his phone for any messages from Heero, asking whether they were coming.

None.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to everyone who had reviewed. I'm glad to know that people are interested in seeing the story continued.

* * *

The story is about a man with a young daughter. In the first few pages of the comic, the girl looks out the window of their shuttle and asks her dad where space comes from. He pats her on the head and says that space just is. Then she asks if she comes from a test tube, like the boys at school say she does, and her dad says, of course not. Of course not.

Wufei starts Duo off with character sketches, trying to get the feel of Lydia and her dad down. Duo fills page after page with different little girls wearing every outfit and hairstyle, exhibiting every gesture and expression little girls are capable of, before Wufei finally settles on one.

"I don't mean to be difficult," Wufei apologizes. "Lydia just has to be perfect. She makes the whole story."

Duo sets aside the rejected drawings and smiles. He understands the desire for precision. What good is expression if it's not accurate?

"No worries," he says. "It's all good practice." He checks his watch. They've been at it for three and a half hours. Duo flexes the muscles in his right hand, curls his wrist towards the underside of his arm to stretch it.

Wufei notes the gesture and collects his own papers. "That should be fine for today. I'll finish writing up the descriptions of the setting so we can work on that next time, and hopefully I'll have some actual paneling done soon." He drums his finger lightly against the table. "It'd be nice to have some pages done by next month to put online, so my readers can see what I'm working on. It'd be good publicity for you as well."

Duo agrees. Just last night, he'd been thinking over when to let his followers know what he was working on. He isn't sure how many of them fall into the graphic novel audience, though. Probably not a lot.

"Since you drove all the way down here, let me make you dinner," Wufei says. "And next time I'll make the drive up to you."

Duo waves his hand. "I'll take dinner, but I don't mind coming down here. It's nice to have a change of scenery."

Wufei watches him for a minute to see what else he'll say, then asks directly, "How is it with Heero?"

Duo shrugs, gives a dry laugh. "You know. Just the same as it always is. I'm trying not to think about it so much."

He'd actually resolved to himself not to think about Heero for two whole months, written down the date and the promise in his journal. But he'd broken it within hours, and he'd been disgusted with himself, and that still hadn't been enough to stop him from calling Heero and arranging to eat lunch with him the following day.

He doesn't want to tell Wufei any of this. Inside, he'd been hoping that finally confessing everything to someone would have released him in some way, overcome the hurdle for him. That hadn't happened.

"I mean, I'm pretty used to how things are. I feel like it's a common enough pattern in my life. The guys I'm interested in would never be interested in a guy like me."

Wufei frowns. "Then what is it that makes you interested in them?"

Duo doesn't know how to answer so general a question, so he just replies in regard to Heero. "He listens, probably better than anyone else I know. He trusts my own opinion of myself and doesn't expect more from me than I can give. I mean, I guess that's the problem, that he never expects anything from me. But it's comforting, too, in a way."

"Because you can't disappoint him." Wufei says this as a statement.

"I guess," Duo answers.

Wufei gives him five more seconds of silence before turning towards the kitchen and digging some things out of his fridge. "I'm not much of a cook, but I can at least put a stir-fry together."

He then goes on to disprove this with the deft way he chops fresh zucchini squash and dices onions, slices bamboo shoots into slivers and throws it all into his wok. Duo rests his chin in his hands and watches in awe from the kitchen counter as he rolls the vegetables along the rounded sides and tosses them. Duo loses track of all the sauces and herbs that Wufei adds in for seasoning. Somewhere along the line he'd also managed to throw in ground pork, cooked earlier that day, and baby bok choy.

Duo is almost sad when Wufei hands him a small bowl of rice with his half of the stir-fry scooped over it. He won't enjoy the taste of the food as much as watching Wufei make it.

If this were Heero he was eating with, they'd eat mostly in silence, leaving each to his own thoughts. But it's Wufei who is sitting across the small round table, and Wufei is no longer the silent man he was during the war.

"I've never asked you before. What made you want to go into art?"

Duo takes a moment to think, working his way through two more bites of food. It's a question he's been asked a dozen times, but he doesn't want to give Wufei the pat answer, cut-and-dry like he would to a magazine.

"I think it started just because I loved it, and felt like I was good at it." He smiles. "I was the biggest graffiti fiend when I was a kid. Learned how to paint with a spray can in the back alleys of L2 before G picked me up. And I always sketched when I had time, even during the war.

"I think, though, that once the war was over and I had to decide what to do next with my life, that's all I could think of. I mean, that was all I really knew. I guess I could have gone back to scrapping, or joined Preventers, or something like that. But those are all just these tiny parts of me. The majority of who I am is caught up in pictures." He pauses. He always pauses here when he tells this, but he doesn't have to hesitate this time because he feels like Wufei will understand.

"I think in pictures. I dream in pictures. I talk in pictures whenever I'm able to. Sometimes I wish I could just draw something instead of having to explain to someone how I'm doing, because with words it all gets lost in translation. And after all the fighting was done, I realized I only had the energy left to fight for this one thing. For my art. To express my thoughts about all the shit we went through and hope that it would help someone, somewhere. Give them hope, like painting those alleyways did for me as a kid."

Wufei nods in understanding and doesn't comment on the emotion that has crept into Duo's voice. Because it's impossible for him to say all that without feeling the same conviction he felt on those streets, that there must be something more, something to reach for.

"It's similar for me," Wufei says. "I returned to literature because it's what I loved before the war, but writing has become a way to hope for me. Something like a star." And he smiles to himself, though Duo doesn't catch the reference.

They continue to talk about writing and art and expression and all the things that burn so strongly in Duo's heart that he never knows how to say out loud. Because Heero probably wouldn't understand those things, and Quatre certainly wouldn't, with all his practicality. Sad as it is, those are really the only two people Duo has in his life right now.

So it's a relief to talk to someone who understands, and the evening is a nice end to a busy day. More than nice. Refreshing in a way that Duo needs. He had no idea that this is part of what his life is missing until tonight. A friend who can support him in his art, who gets the purpose of it all. Who cares enough to even ask about the purpose.

When Duo drives home that night, he sings loud for the whole two hours. He feels like he's finally moving on a bit, and it feels good. He feels free.

* * *

He still has those lunch plans with Heero to worry about the next day. He got home so late the night before that he barely even has the time to dress before Heero knocks on his door. He feels like he has some extra courage today. He doesn't need to push their conversation towards something deeper, and he's not even sure that he wants to.

He finds himself unable to stop chatting about Wufei while they're walking down the stairs, during the ride to the restaurant, all the way through the meal, even. It's weird that he already has so much to say about the project. They've only met twice now.

Heero listens to every word with his usual patience, although Duo thinks that a few of his comments sound out of place. Slightly annoyed. Duo knows that he's talking too much and tries to stop, he really does. But their usual silence is suddenly so uncomfortable.

"So tell me how you're doing," Duo says lamely.

Heero responds with a description of his latest work project, but it's all details and logistics, as usual. A whole bunch of facts that Duo will certainly memorize and follow-up with next time he sees him, but he still wishes for something more. Some days Heero gives it to him, but this isn't one of them.

Their normal rhythm is just off today. They're not quite on the same page. Duo feels willing to talk about nearly anything, and Heero's a closed book, looking like he doesn't even want to be sitting there. Duo's starting to feel the same way.

Heero signals the waitress for the bill.

* * *

When Duo visits the gallery during the last week of his show, he walks slowly past the walls, noting which pieces have orange tags. Most of them do, and that knowledge gives him a funny feeling in his chest. It's a hodgepodge of relief, excitement and total fear that those little pieces of himself are now sitting in people's living rooms and offices. But overall it's good. It's freeing.

There is one piece, however, that is conspicuously without a tag. And Duo wouldn't care – never really let it bother him when a piece didn't sell the first time around – except that it's the one. The first one sold, to Heero, about Heero, unfinished and for some reason marked, once again for sale.

The first feeling that cuts through the shock is one of betrayal, and then anger. Why didn't he say anything? Duo knows he's going to have to screw up his courage to talk to Heero about this, because it'll be really awkward when that piece ends up back in his studio when it's supposed to be in Heero's apartment. Did he think Duo wouldn't notice?

It takes him two days to figure out the words he wants to say, and he realizes something. Part of him wants to pick a fight. Part of him always looks forward to conflict with Heero, even if it means shouting and harsh words. It never comes down to that, literally never has since after the war, but when Duo's planning what to say, he always expects it will. Kind of hopes that it will, if he's honest.

Maybe it's the desire to speak his mind without holding anything back, without overthinking everything. Maybe he's just angry. He doesn't know anymore.

When he finally does get around to talking to him, Heero reacts as expected. Listens to Duo explain how hurt he is, then apologizes. "It seemed like you didn't really want me to have it," is the only explanation he offers.

Duo actually clenches his fist in his lap. "But I thought you _wanted _it. I thought that's why you bought it." He doesn't know how to say those words right, to get them to mean what he wants them to mean.

Heero studies him for a minute. "You said that you were the only one who understand everything that painting meant. So I thought that you would want to keep it with you and finish it. I thought it would be strange for me to have it."

Duo stares at him, then anywhere but him. The words echo strangely in his head. _It would be strange for me to have it._ That's when he realizes why he's really upset. Because there was something hopeful about Heero being drawn to that painting, something soothing about picturing it on his wall. Duo put that one in the show because he didn't want it shunted back to him, where it would likely stay unfinished forever. He wanted it to end, and when Heero had bought it, it had seemed like such a pat resolution. A funny story that he would tell Heero once they finally started dating.

Duo says some more words, but he doesn't even know what they are. Something along the lines of 'don't worry about it'. He can barely hear Heero's answer over the roaring white noise in his head.


	4. Chapter 4

He stands in front of Wufei's door, duffel slung over his shoulder, art bag in his hand. "Do you mind if I stay for a few nights?"

Wufei's leaning against the door frame, pushing his long hair away from his face, still dressed in his pajamas, a white tee and grey sweats. Finally he nods and lets Duo in, then points to the couch as he retreats into his bedroom. Duo wonders whether he'll go back to sleep.

Apparently he does, because he doesn't come back out for two more hours. Duo's a bit surprised at that. He did come over rather early – 7am – but if it had been him, he would have felt the need to make Wufei comfortable. He would have stayed up and talked to him, if only to hear the reason for his coming.

He finally decides to put on a pot of tea and see whether there's anything he can make for breakfast. It's the least he can do. He feels bad about putting Wufei on the spot like this, but not that bad. He knew that Wufei would have turned him away if there was really a problem.

He finds a cabinet well-stocked with loose leaf tea, but Wufei's fridge is pathetically empty. Maybe Duo can go shopping for him later to pay him back. He scoops Keemun into the pot as the water kettle begins to whistle.

"Like to start out your mornings strong, huh?"

Duo jumps and spins around. He hadn't heard Wufei come up behind him. "What?"

"The Keemun." Wufei nods towards the teapot. "I usually start with something milder, like the Golden Yuunan, and save the strong stuff for the afternoon."

"Oh," Duo says lamely. He doesn't even know what Golden Yuunan is. "I haven't poured in the water yet, I can still change it out."

"Don't bother." He comes closer, brushing past Duo to pick up the tin still sitting on the counter. He breathes in the scent of the leaves deeply, letting his dark eyes fall closed. "This will be perfect."

It's right then that all of Duo's alarms go off, but they just confuse him. It can't be what he thinks it is, what his gut tells him it is. He's making too much of things.

He had to be. Because Wufei was the man that knew what Duo was going through, knew exactly how messed up he was over Heero. He can't imagine Wufei wanting to step into that mess.

Wufei reaches for the kettle and pours the water in. "You probably noticed that I don't have much food around, but there's some oranges on the table, at least. Bought them fresh yesterday from the farmer's market."

"They still have those?" Duo says with a bit of awe. He wanders over to the table. The oranges are lumpy and discolored with swirls of green, which in his experience makes for the sweetest fruit.

"They do. I go every Sunday to pick up some fruit for the week. Apparently I should have done some more shopping this time."

Duo glances back with a guilty look, but Wufei is giving him a wry smile. "It's fine."

"Do you want me to go to the store for you? You could give me a list."

"If you want."

"Are you going to ask me why I'm here?"

"Do you want me to?"

Duo has to think about it. Wufei had to be making some guesses in his head, probably guesses that were pretty close to being correct. But he's not sure he really wants to go into it all. He's exhausted from thinking about it. He just wants some time away from everything.

"No," he finally says. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Okay," Wufei says. Then he pulls two mugs from the cupboard and fills them up with the dark red tea. He passes one to Duo and takes a seat at his kitchen table, blowing gently at the steam rising from his cup.

* * *

As the story goes on, Lydia finds out that her dad has been hiding a secret from her. She finds her way into a locked room at his office and discovers that it's filled with test tubes and old files with her name on them. She realizes that she's not his daughter at all; that, in fact, she's not even human. She's a cyborg, grown by scientists in order to integrate with a mobile suit so that she can be a weapon for them. A perfect soldier.

Duo gets chills as he starts paneling out these scenes. The similarities between Lydia and all five of the pilots are obvious, and that was Wufei's intention. He's still trying to get people to really look at what the five of them went through, at the way it messed with their heads to be used so much by every side. Duo thinks that might be what justice looks like to him these days – writing down the truth in a way that people can swallow.

Wufei has managed to produce an entire stack of rough panels and dialogue, and it takes Duo hours to put down preliminary sketches for them all. That's hours that the two of them sit in complete silence, other than the scratching of Wufei's pen on the paper and the occasional sound of one of them standing up to stretch. Duo lets his mind shut off as he falls into the world that Wufei has created, putting everything he can into making it come alive on the page.

He finally leans back to stretch out his hand four hours later. He could push himself to draw for a little longer, but he's always wary about straining his hand too much. He worries about what could happen if he injured it, what would happen if he didn't have art to distract him from life.

Wufei looks up at him, then glances at his watch. "Want to go out for lunch?" He's sitting on the floor, at the coffee table, having insisted that he prefers to write there. That left the kitchen table to Duo to spread out all his pencils and old sketches on.

"Sure. What's good around here?"

Wufei takes him to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that's been around since the pre-colony years, although it's more a homage to southern California than Mexico. The walls are painted bright teal and pink and the line backs out the door, even though it's a weekday. They order burritos with French fries in them, something Duo never thought Wufei would be willing to eat.

Afterwards, they traipse down to the beach, where twilight is starting to fade into night. The wind bites through Duo's thin jacket, but that doesn't stop him from collapsing onto the sand and looking up at what he can see of the stars.

"I don't visit the beach enough," he says. Wufei lays down next to him, gingerly placing his hands behind his head to help keep the sand out of his hair.

"These stars are nothing compared to what you see from the cockpit," Wufei says after a moment.

"True," Duo says. "It's the city lights. But the wind is nice, and the smell of the salt, and the sand under my hands. I like that."

"Mm," Wufei says. The silence stretches, and Duo's mind wanders. Looking at the stars makes him miss space. He knows it's just nostalgia. Space never gave him anything except for a constant struggle to survive, from birth to age sixteen. But somehow memories always leave the painful parts out. Duo wonders what it is in him that still yearns for space, yearns for clanging air locks, for cold, dirty air and patches of artificial grass. He shivers just thinking about it, and yet something in his heart is still crying for it, the way that some people must cry for home.

He starts as something warm touches him and he realizes that Wufei has taken his hand in his own, quietly, without a word. He doesn't know what to make of it, but he decides to accept it as a simple offer of comfort.

He can't deny, though, that his heart is pounding out of his chest as they lie like that for the next hour. He doesn't know what to make of it.

Later that night, when he is back on Wufei's couch, hidden and safe in the darkness of the living room, he will ask himself: What were you thinking?

He will say to himself: It's not fair to do this when you know your heart is still miles away. When a single word from Heero would take you straight back to LA.

He won't sleep because of the guilt and the hope and the shame.

But for now, he lets Wufei hold his hand and he stares at the stars.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: These chapters are getting shorter all the time. Sorry about that.

* * *

Something is different when he wakes up the next morning.

Duo tries to think about Heero, to think about how much he would rather be spending this time with him. No emotions rise to the surface to be pushed down. What brings a smile to his face is the knowledge that Wufei is already in the kitchen, brewing tea for the both of them.

But Duo knows that it's not that easy to fall out of love with someone.

He brushes his teeth and straightens his braid. He wants to erase the smile from his face, to act casual. He doesn't know what Wufei's thinking, but he doesn't want to give him false hope. He doesn't trust his own intentions. He can't say with any certainty that he's not just lonely and responding to the first man to show an interest.

"Good morning," he says, and he's proud of how neutral his tone is.

"Good morning," Wufei answers. His tone is not neutral. It's bright and happy. He pours a cup of tea into a double-walled glass cup that lets the deep red liqueur show through.

"Here," Wufei says. "Golden Yuunan. I think you'll like it."

"Thanks," Duo mumbles. He holds the cup delicately, one hand cupping the side, the other supporting the base of the cup. It warms his hands without burning them.

He sips from the cup in silence. Wufei does the same in the seat across from him, for which he's grateful. He has to think. He has to sort his mind out.

The tea is delicious, like honeycrisp apples and malt. Duo lets it sooth him, lets his mind wander. He feels so at peace in this moment, so at home. What does that mean? Is it important? Is he fooling himself out of his own desperation or has he finally found something worth moving on to?

He didn't think that anyone would be able to drag his heart away from Heero. The thought that it's happening so easily scares him. Maybe he's one of those people, the kind of person who falls in and out of love without warning, leaving people who deserve better. He doesn't want to be that. Wufei doesn't deserve that.

His thoughts drift back to two nights ago, when Heero told him that he'd returned the painting. Sharp pain shoots into his heart, familiar, and he grimaces. The tea smells like hazelnuts; he tries to focus on that. But a thought surfaces, a thought that cuts straight through everything else.

_Why doesn't he want me?_

Because that's what it comes down to. Heero doesn't want him and Duo doesn't understand why.

Wufei seems to want him, at least a little. Duo doesn't owe Heero anything; why can't he just let go?

Wufei stands up to pour himself another cup of tea and Duo watches him out of the corner of his eye. Yes, he's attracted to him. He used to joke that he'd never want to date another artist because artists are crazy. But right now, he takes those words back.

When Wufei sits back down, the cheerful smile from this morning is back on Duo's face. He doesn't owe Heero anything.

"So," he says. "What's on today's schedule?"

* * *

The day proceeds much as the one before. Drawing, drawing, drawing. Whenever they lean back to take a break, they talk about what they've been reading lately. They have the same taste in literature, both living on a steady diet of short stories, Carver and Wilhelm and Bradbury.

"How could anyone not love Bradbury and his vision of the future, even today?" Wufei says, and Duo feels something for him so fierce, so close to desire.

"Man," he says. "I wish we'd started hanging out earlier. Living so far away from you has been a mistake."

Wufei laughs. "Move down here. We'll talk about Bradbury every day."

"Hm." Duo holds the thought in his mind for a few moments. That could be exactly what he needs. "Maybe I should."

Wufei meets his eyes, holds his gaze. He looks like he's weighing something internally. Maybe he's trying to gauge whether Duo is being serious.

"Do it," he says. "You can stay here until you find a place. You can use the garage for your studio."

Duo smiles and tries to stay casual. "You asking me to move in with you?" He hopes his tone sounds saucy, teasing.

"Until you find a place." Wufei's tone is altogether too serious, a sharp counterpoint to Duo's. He seems to realize that he's overstepped his boundaries and ducks his head.

"San Diego is nice. Think about it." He sits up and goes back to writing, ignoring Duo's stare.

"Until I find a place," Duo echoes. "Would you help me look? Are there any nearby?"

Wufei glances up again. "Probably. I'd help you, if you really wanted to move."

"If I really wanted to move."

Wufei picks up his pen, then sets it down again. "What are we really talking about, Duo?"

Duo fixes his eyes downwards. "I don't know. I just… I can't deny that I need a change. Maybe moving away and starting over would be a good one."

"And do I figure into that picture at all?"

Duo freezes. He hears a shuffle as Wufei stands and comes to sit in the chair next to him.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I know that was sudden. But you need to know something."

Duo peeks up at him through his thick bangs.

"I'm not interested in playing games, or in making you guess what I'm thinking. I'm not saying I love you or anything close to it. But you can't deny that there's something here. Of all the people in the world, only five of us know what we went through. Of those five, you're the only one I can talk to about my work, about these things I'm passionate about. I think it's worth pursuing. You're worth pursuing."

Duo doesn't know how to respond. He could deny that he feels anything, but it would be a lie.

"What's stopping you?" Wufei asks.

"If I started something with you, and tomorrow Heero confessed to me, I'd go back to him. I know I would."

"I'll take my chances." He backs up his chair, widening the space between him. "I'm sorry to put you on the spot. You staying here isn't conditional on anything. Moving down here doesn't have to mean being more than my friend. Just think about it."

"I will." Wufei looks at him in surprise. Duo feels surprised himself. He hadn't planned for those words to come out of my mouth. "I will. It's just… I've been in love with Heero for so long. For years."

"That doesn't mean you're his forever. You're free to change your mind."

Duo doesn't answer this time, and eventually Wufei goes back to writing. The next time they take a break, they're back to talking about the story, planning the next chapter, fixing some of the paneling.

Duo drives home the next day, but he's still thinking. He looks up available apartments online and finds plenty that are affordable. He drives down again to look at them, without Wufei. Because if he's going to do this, it's going to be for himself, by himself. He doesn't want to run to Wufei just because he's there. He knows that much.

He finds a place three blocks away from Wufei that's perfect. Two bedrooms, with enough ventilation that he can do oil paintings inside, at least until he finds a studio space to rent. Ample room for canvases and easels and stacks of books.

So he signs the lease and turns in his 30-day notice to his place in LA. Then he tries to figure out how to tell his friends about the move.

Quatre and Trowa respond with promises to visit. He has to leave Heero a voicemail because he doesn't answer the phone.

He doesn't call Wufei at all, because he still hasn't figured out what he wants from him. He just hopes he has an answer before he actually moves down.


End file.
